


Keep This Part Safe

by leobrat



Category: Taylor Swift (Musician)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-08
Updated: 2011-03-08
Packaged: 2017-10-16 19:32:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/168589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leobrat/pseuds/leobrat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's addicted to the internet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keep This Part Safe

John is addicted to the internet. Weekly purchases from Amazon. Youtube. Porn. And he still stalks Twitter, even though he deleted his account. He honestly doesn’t remember what he did before he could Google any random stream-of-conscious question that popped into his brain.

Of course, every couple of days, he googles himself to see what the new rumors are, what the new hate-on is all about. Of course, he’s learned to watch himself a bit, after all this time. (He still manages to royally fuck it all up too, though.) He’s a glutton for punishment, always has been.

He can’t help it- he skims the articles about her and Jake Gyllenhaal. Tries not to look too hard at the pictures. There was once a time when he was completely in tune with every curve of her every smile, exactly what her laugh sounded like in his head, and it’s...painful, somewhat, to be getting further away from that. And to know that it’s not likely that he’ll be getting back to it.

At least not without a whole lot of uncomfortable soul searching on his part, and hey, it’s not like he didn’t make sure that things would end up exactly this way...

But still.

He downloaded _Speak Now_ illegally (fuck it, why should he be paying to listen to his own tongue-lashing), and, first thing’s first, he deleted _Back To December_ , _Last Kiss_ and basically every song that was about a guy who wasn’t him. The third time he listened to _Dear John_ , he took out his Gibson and played along with it, adding his own authentic, signature wail to the one she tried to get her guitarist to copy. He killed it, too, of course. “It’s a pretty fucking good song, Little Miss Taylor,” he said to his empty studio booth.

And hey, it’s not like that whole thing was unexpected. At first, he thought it was kind of cute about her, the way she put it out there for the whole world to see, and he applauded her balls with the way she took care of the boys who’d done her wrong, the boys who came before...But...It was certainly different when the shoe was on the other foot.

He has to kind of laugh at himself that he still has a shred of naivete- he honestly thought he was different. He thought what they had was different. (And if he were to put money on it, she would probably say the same thing about him.) He doesn’t know why he does the things he does- to feel the way he felt about her, and still treat her the way he treated all the others. No wonder he always ends up like this.

He clicks away from the latest US Weekly sighting of her, and pulls up a file of his pictures from last winter. And wouldn’t the internet fucking explode if these ever got out.

But there’s some things, some parts of her that he has to keep for himself.

And God knows she still has a piece of him, and always will.


End file.
